The Importance Of Air
by CTMsunday
Summary: Patrick realizes he should have listened to his wife.
1. Chapter 1

I've made up a makeshift office for Patrick, and I realize that I have described it similar to that of his at the maternity home (as that's where I got the inspiration from, and it's easier to describe as you know what it looks like!). I realize that I may have got the 'biology' (Not sure if that's the right word) of this wrong, but it's fic after all!

I want to apologise for this, but I like the reactions too much ;-) *Evil laugh*

Patrick's breathing got heavier as his lungs struggled to find the oxygen they so desperately needed. He stumbled forward and gripped the back of his desk chair in agony, when yet another sharp pain ripped through his chest.

Patrick you really should give up smoking. Shelagh had said to him, many-a-time. It's not good for you.

He knew this, of course. After all, he was a doctor. But did this stop him? No. Here he was, falling to the ground in agonizing pain. Should he have listened, not just to his wife but to the many others who expressed their concerns about his smoking habit? Most definitely yes; was his last coherent thought, as he began to feel weightless and everything faded in front of him.

Shelagh wrote down the name of the new mother who had just sat down, and walked down the small corridor to find her husband, to inform him of the new patient. She knocked on the door.

Nothing.

So she knocked again.

But again there was silence from the other side.

Perhaps he was with a patient and I missed him going into the cubicle. She thought. Walking back toward the group of nurses gathered at the back of the room, her pace became to quicken when she couldn't hear the familiar low murmur of her beloved.

"Shelagh... Umm, Mrs Turner!" Trixie called, but quickly corrected herself when she heard the unsuppressed tut and grumble from Sister Evangelina about professionalism in the work place. Yet, no one questioned her professionalism when she demanded a cuddle with young Angela Turner during clinic days.

"Have you seen your husband anywhere?" Ignoring Sister Evangelina grumbles again, with a roll of her eyes she continued "He said he would go to find another pen from his office, but he hasn't returned. I didn't know whether he had got... Distracted?" The Sister huffed loudly and went to go and refresh her teacup.

Ignoring Trixie's smirk and small giggle, Shelagh concentrated on where the location of her husband could be. He wasn't with a patient, he wasn't in the kitchen, and nor was he in his office.

"I've just come from his office. I knocked but there was no answer." Shelagh answered, her brow burrowing into itself toward the centre of her head.

"Oh. I don't think I've seen him come back here since." Trixie turned to Cynthia and Chummy who were deep in conversation next to her.

"Have either of you seen Doctor Turner since he went to his office?"

"No, I don't believe I have"

"No, old bean." They both answered in turn.

Shelagh wondered whether he just hadn't heard her knocking on the solid, wooden door. He was aging after all, and with age came hearing loss, she inwardly chuckled.

"I'll go again, he's probably fallen asleep!" She grinned.

"Too many late nights?" Trixie shot back with a wink and a grin.

"Angela has begun teething. She's keeping us all awake during the night." Shelagh answered with a smirk. It was partly true, they had been up during the night soothing their youngest, but they didn't always fall back to sleep straight away.

Shelagh made her way back to the makeshift office that he had claimed as his own since the move to the community centre. She recognized the smell of the solid door, a slight musk of the tobacco he smoked that had already stained the door with its smell.

She knocked again. Then, Shelagh heard it. A faint call for help. She immediately opened the door and took in the sight of her husband.

He lay behind the desk, only his head visible from her position by the door.

She ran over and laid a hand over his on his chest.

Nothing; no movement. No heartbeat. He'd gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was severely disliked after the last chapter, so I've been rattling this out to post in the same day (hence, I apologise for any mistakes and bad writing). My mum actually mentioned this idea, so blame her if you don't like it! ;-) **

Her heart missed several beats.

He was gone.

Her husband. The one who was her rock; her lover; her everything.

Then she sobbed. The large pools of salty water fell rapidly like the Niagra Falls. She collapsed over his body, her tears dampening his shirt-clad chest. She never realized how muscular he actually was until now. And now it was too late. It was too late for anything. What she would give to tell him how much he really meant to her; to show him the full extent of her boldness; to see once more the loving, gentle father that he was.

Her loud cries drowned out the footsteps of someone approaching her in the office.

"Shelagh?"

She couldn't bear to look up. Sister Julienne could not console her now. Nobody could, only her husband.

Sister Julienne gasped. Beneath the young woman was someone- a man. She gingerly approached and laid a hand on Shelagh's shoulder.

"My dear girl, what…" She lost her words in mid air when Shelagh looked up, and the Sister caught sight of the man's face.

She wrapped her arms around Shelagh, not a care as to how professional it may be, or the state in which they both might look.

She sat there for several minutes. Shelagh's sobs gradually calmed to a steady stream of tears, and the occasional hiccup.

Finally, Sister Julienne spoke up, "But… he was going back home to check on Angela and Mrs Winter. Why was he here? He left as soon as I spoke to him."

"You...you knew...where he'd...gone" Shelagh whispered into the silent room.

"Yes, my dear girl. He said he had a small gap in between his patients, so he wanted to see how young Angela was"

The clock ticked, and chimed when the hands reached 4 'o' clock.

Voices sounded down the corridor. Sister Julienne helped Shelagh to stand, but kept her arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close to her as a comfort and protection.

One of the voices sounded familiar, but in the haze of their minds, they could not place it. But when he arrived at the door, she could not believe it.

"Patrick?" She uttered slowly.

"Shelagh? Shelagh, my love, what...what is it? What's wrong?" He rushed toward her and took his wife into his strong arms. Her body shook with the force of her sobs.

Eventually she was able to form a sentence and project it outloud "I thought you had gone. That you'd died. That you'd left me all alone."

"My darling, I don't…"

Patrick slowly opened his eyes, but he was not prepared for the sight beyond Shelagh's head.

"What?..." He held Shelagh's hand, as he walked over to the man. "But…"

Laying on the floorboards, was Jonathan, his twin.


End file.
